The Marenon Chronicles Collection

by Jason D. Morrow

  Julian ducked instinctively when he saw Spencer, seemingly talking to himself. Looking closer, Julian could see on the table, in front of Spencer was a wristband, silver with a green jewel in its center. The jewel shined two different lights onto the wall like a colored projector, just as it would if Julian were to use his own wristband. He looked at his wrist. The jewel was glowing green; meaning one of the council members had tried to contact him. Julian winced. How could Spencer have an identical wristband? There was no chance he had one like this by accident. That sort of object was special to the Dunarian Council. Dublin had made them himself so the council could easily keep in contact with each other. The bands were made of magic with the ability to see who they were talking to, either in the jewel face itself or through the light of its projection. One could also simply choose to speak without any sort of visual. It was the perfect way for the Dunarians to communicate secretly with one another over long distances, yet there was Spencer, chatting away on his own. But to whom?

  Julian needed to get closer if he was going to hear what was being said. He moved from behind the bookshelf to a table several feet ahead. As Julian shuffled over loose papers, Spencer’s head jerked up and his eyes narrowed, searching the shadows.

  “What is it?” the voice said from one of the lights. Julian kept his head down, praying Spencer wouldn’t see him. He had no fear of Spencer, but being caught in the castle would force Julian to do something he wasn’t sure he wanted to do. Kill.

  “It was nothing,” Spencer said turning around to the floating faces. “Rats, probably. This place is filthy. What of the Silas Ainsley situation?”

  Silas Ainsley?

  A deep, gruff voice answered the question. “He escaped me. Osric killed the boy before we could capture him.”

  Julian finally managed to look up and was horrified at what he saw. Floating in the green light was the vilest face he had ever known. It was the face of the one who had been responsible for his father’s death; the one who led the company to attack the king of Marenon. Spencer was conversing with Maroke. Rage began trembling through Julian’s veins as he stared at the floating head. This confirmed everything. Spencer was behind his father’s murder!

  “That means he’s somewhere in your part of the country,” Spencer said nodding to the other image. The image was blocked from Julian’s view by Spencer’s head, but the voice sounded too familiar. Who else could he be talking to?

  “There’s no way to know if he survived the gauntlet,” the voice said.

  “If he is who the Erellens say he is, he survived it,” Spencer said. “If he isn’t who they claim, then this whole operation is pointless anyway.”

  “Not completely,” Maroke said, impatiently. “The boy is just a backup plan. When we get the medallions we won’t need the boy.”

  “Yes about that,” the other voice said. “Garland Ainsley is overseeing operations, waiting to see if Kaden will bring Silas back. He will soon get suspicious and will begin searching for the boy.”

  Who was the other person Spencer was talking to? Was Kaden dead?

  When Spencer shifted his weight, Julian could see the face of the other floating voice and he almost wished he hadn’t. Ward Holden! A wave of anger hit Julian like a tsunami. Why was he conversing with these two? The interim leader of the Dunarian Council was supposed to be totally against the Stühocs and here he was, giving out key information to the enemy about The Reckoning!

  “I assume your men are ready for Julian?” Holden asked.

  “I have extra guards at every possible entrance,” Spencer said.

  Not every possible entrance, Julian thought.

  “He will not get anywhere close to the medallion tonight,” Spencer continued. “I made sure to have my key on me when he paid a visit earlier today. The key was missing by the end of our meeting, just as planned. He will be dead by morning.”

  “Very good,” Holden said. “His defiance would be getting in the way of our work if he were still involved. The king still knows nothing?”

  “It’s no secret the king and his brother have ill-will toward each other, but he would not condone a killing such as this,” Spencer answered. “You know how he reacted when we told him of his father. He knows nothing of Julian’s arrival.”

  The two heads nodded their approval. Julian wanted to chop off Spencer’s head where he stood, but revealing his location would not serve him well. He wondered who had been trying to contact him through the wristband. Could it have been Holden, making sure he was continuing with his plan?

  “Is Kaden Osric secure?” Holden asked Maroke.

  “He is secure with no chance of escape,” he answered.

  Julian grinned for a moment. Knowing that Kaden was still alive was good news, but his capture by the Stühocs was bad, very bad. He wondered why they hadn’t killed him already. Are they going to try and turn him?

  “Very well,” Spencer said. “I will contact you when we have dealt with Julian. He is the last real threat we have in carrying out our operation.”

  “And I will keep you informed on our search for Silas, and if Julian contacts me,” Holden said.

  “Maroke,” Spencer said. “Your troops need to be ready in the coming days. It will not be long until we have every last medallion.” With that, he placed his hand on the green jewel and the faces disappeared. Julian ducked under the table as Spencer walked by, placing the wristband back on his wrist and under his sleeve. As Julian watched Spencer open the door to exit, he noticed a portrait in the hallway of a lion, lying down with a lamb. He smiled with relief, realizing exactly where he was. The door had always been locked in the past. In that dark, cold and messy room he sat five levels directly below the king’s chamber.

  He sat upright; being sure his head was against the gray, inconspicuous wall. He touched the green jewel on his wrist, waiting for Holden to answer. Within moments, Holden’s face appeared before his own. It took everything in Julian not to curse him with all the evil words known, but he held his composure.

  “Someone had tried to contact me earlier,” Julian said.

  “Yes, that was me,” Holden answered. “Where are you?”

  “I’m just inside the castle.” He took a deep breath acting as if he had just been running. “I am in the southeast corner, about to make my way towards Morgan’s chambers. I’ll be taking the southeast stairwell and cut across through the middle,” he lied. “I know the routes; there will be no problem. I’m still on the second level now.”

  A smile crossed Holden’s face. It was one that Julian may not have been able to place if he had not just witnessed the man’s betrayal only moments before. But he knew the smile to be that of victory. As far as Holden was concerned, Julian had just given himself up. As far as Julian was concerned, he had just saved his own life.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Julian crouched low into the shadows as a group of guards ran past him toward the southeast wing of the castle, just as planned. Holden must have just contacted Spencer to warn him of Julian’s presence. With the guards swarming in the opposite direction, Julian would have more than enough time to make it to the king’s quarters without being noticed. He crept down the long hallway and to the bottom of the first flight of stairs and began to climb. He looked in all directions, making sure no one was around. With each step he came closer to the purple medallion.

  He quickly arrived at the second flight of stairs without incident.

  He could not believe his good fortune to overhear the conversation between Holden, Spencer and Maroke. It was lucky, he knew that, but it was quite unlucky to be plotted against. Holden wanted him dead. They all did. They knew Julian would do nothing but get in the way of their plans. And that was exactly what Julian intended to do.

  He now scaled the third flight, still no guards.

  He wondered how long ago this plot had been devised. He wondered who initiated the idea. The Reckoning had turned into nothing more than a ploy for corrupt individuals to gain power and J
ulian had been a pawn, played in a large-scale game of chess. But he was a pawn no longer.

  He ascended the fourth flight, almost feeling the medallion within his grasp.

  Julian was sure he could turn the game around on Holden and the rest. Operation Reckoning, although corrupted, could still be used for good. It could be used to take down those that would manipulate it to gain power for evil. If Julian survived the night, he would go to the Dunarians alive and seemingly empty-handed. Holden would be suspicious of him and wonder how he escaped, but would still pretend to be on his side. Julian would have to watch his back until he could figure out the next best move.

  He reached the top of the staircase, feeling confident that his location had not been discovered. Slowly, he tiptoed to the corner of the hallway and could see the king’s chamber doors shut tight with two guards in front, standing at attention. These guards never left their post. Their duty was to the king, and the king alone. Julian hoped they wouldn’t be too much of a bother. The hallway was long and led straight to the chamber doors. Another hallway ran parallel to Julian’s current position, but there was no way he could flank the guards from the side. If any person were in that hallway, the soldiers would know it. He crouched low, just out of sight and considered carefully what to do next. He did not want to kill these men and he did not want to be seen, but being seen would be unavoidable.

  He stood upright and silently pulled his sword from his back. The attack would have to be swift and smooth. It would only work if they never saw him coming. He muttered a few words under his breath giving life to his sword when a burst of blue light shot from his blade, directly into the guard’s eyes. Instantly they covered their eyes, blinded by the brightness. Julian held his magic firm and intense as they cried out. Both of them tried to look up, but it was useless. They could see nothing, not even a silhouette. When Julian reached his foes he swung the hilt of his sword around, knocking the first guard in the back of the head, quickly swinging his fists back, he whacked the other guard on the side of the head. Both of them lay motionless. All they would remember was a bright light, then darkness, and a massive headache. He hoped that no one had heard the guard’s brief cries. He would have to be quick.

  Julian pulled out the master key and quietly slipped it into the door and it turned with ease. He took one last look around. No movement. No sound. He glided through the doorway and shut it behind him without a noise. There was nothing stopping him now, but he had to hurry. Once Spencer and the guards realized that Julian was nowhere to be found, their first thoughts would be to make sure the king was safe. The unconscious guards in front of the door would certainly raise alarm.

  Julian turned to face the royal room he had remembered so well as his father’s own bed chambers. A sudden sadness and longing for his father permeated his heart, but was quickly replaced by anger at how the kingdom had started crumbling under his brother’s tyrannical rule. Morgan had been too foolish for too long. He had allowed his kingdom to become a rotten mess.

  He stared at the four-poster bed across the room where his brother slept silently behind silk curtains. To Julian’s left was a large window-paned door, where the king could step onto an expansive balcony and survey his kingdom from a safe distance. It was large enough to hold more than a hundred people comfortably, yet it only ever held the king and special company. The door was open wide and the wind softly blew the curtains inward. He glanced at the table next to his brother’s bed and saw what he had been looking for. In its glorious, shining majesty, sat the purple-jeweled medallion.

  Julian crept to the table. Several rings scattered about, the medallion hung as he predicted, but there was something else that capture Julian’s attention. Next to the majestic jewelry was a sealed envelope. Julian’s curiosity reeled. It bore the king’s seal meaning Morgan had written what was on that paper with his own hand. He shook his head. This was not a time to be curious. He needed to grab the medallion and get out. Julian clutched the chain, from which hung a round, gold metal pendant inlaid with a purple jewel. The purple shined from its center and ancient Erellen symbols danced along its surface, indecipherable. He clung tight to the object and placed it deep in his cloak pocket.

  “Were you just going to take the medallion or were you planning to kill me as well?” The startled Julian turned sharply as he heard the menacing voice behind him.

  He knew it well. The voice that had taunted him his entire life, the voice that echoed betrayal and hatred was that of his brother, Morgan.

  Julian stood upright and pulled down his hood. “I’m here only for the medallion, Morgan.”

  Morgan leaned against the side of the balcony door, while his loose fingers held a nearly empty bottle of strong whiskey. Julian had grown so accustomed to Morgan’s habits that he never suspected he would be out on the balcony this late at night. Something must have been truly bothering him. He was drunk. As much as Julian held a strong contempt for his brother, he could not help but feel a slight pang of sympathy. He had let the weight of kingship get to him and his agony screamed from his eyes.

  “Brother?” Morgan slurred. “We are not brothers, Julian. I have been nothing of a brother to you, lately.”

  “You never have, Morgan.”

  Morgan ignored the comment and turned to stare into the night sky. “How’d you get in?”

  “Through the front door.”

  “Lousy guards,” Morgan murmured.

  Julian took a step forward. “I’m leaving now, Morgan. I’m sorry you had to see me sneak in like this.”

  “We’re enemies now,” Morgan shrugged. “I expect it these days.” With that he stepped away from the window out to the balcony, heedless of his armed brother.

  Julian was surprised at his brother’s apathy, but took it as an opportunity to get out. It was unfortunate that Morgan saw him with the medallion, but it was something he was going to have to deal with later, among many other problems; Holden’s betrayal being one of the most troubling. Just as Julian was about to open the chamber doors, he heard his brother mutter words that Julian would never forget.

  “I killed father.”

  Julian froze where he stood and slowly turned to the windowed door. Morgan drooped over the ledge of the balcony, bottle in hand.

  “Well, I didn’t kill him, but I had him killed.”

  Julian was silent as he stared at his brother in disbelief. He had always had his suspicions about Morgan’s involvement in their father’s death, and he had heard some mention of it in the meeting below, but to actually hear it from Morgan was more difficult for Julian than he expected it would be.

  Morgan glanced at his brother, his voice stricken with regret. “Spencer convinced me it was the right thing to do.” He shrugged. “He said father was destroying Marenon.”

  Anger boiled red-hot in Julian’s face. “So, I suppose he said you could do better.”

  Morgan took another swig of his drink and nodded.

  “You fool! Father was the best thing that ever happened to Marenon!” He strode closer to Morgan, forgetting his mission for the moment. “He was making things right. He was getting rid of the leeching Stühocs. People were beginning to come together.”

  “I never agreed with any of father’s politics.”

  “So you killed him?”

  “What was I supposed to do?” Morgan raged turning to face Julian. “I had seen it all my life, father screwing up the whole kingdom and then there was someone to confirm my feelings about it. I hated him! I hated you! I hated how he loved you! I always thought he blamed me for our death on Earth.”

  “That’s because it was your fault, Morgan. You took me to the ice to die.”

  “I was young and foolish. You can’t know how furious I was at you for killing mother.”

  Julian’s chest pained. Their mother’s death had always been the foundation of Morgan’s anger. There was nothing Julian could have done to prevent it, but he felt guilty nonetheless.

  “I’m not proud of anything I�
��ve done,” Morgan continued. “I hate myself for it all. I have been a fool and I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry doesn’t bring father back. Sorry doesn’t change the fact that you order hundreds of innocent people to be killed every week by having them run the gauntlet in Canor! What kind of person have you become, Morgan?”

  “One that wants to change,” he said in a low tone. “I’m a man that is sorry for what he has done.”

  “You are beyond forgiveness,” Julian said, now only a foot from the drunken king.

  “There’s an envelope on the table next to my bed,” Morgan said. “I’m sure you saw it. You should read it. It’s for you. It’s my apology in writing. I was going to send it to you soon. I’ve been working up the courage.”

  “I don’t want any apology from you! By morning you won’t even remember that you said any of this and things will stay just as they are. The Stühocs will be allowed to take over whatever village they want, people will still be dying by the thousands and you will still be as rotten as you have been since the day you killed our whole family!”

  Julian had been so taken by his anger that he barely realized he had been punched square in the jaw until he was on the ground. He heard the whiskey bottle crash to the stone floor as Morgan dove on top of him, pounding him in the back. Julian pushed up with all of his might, causing Morgan to fall backward. He stood upright and charged toward him, one blow to the head, and one blow to stomach. Morgan ducked from the last swing and spun around. Julian now stood in front of the balcony ledge and Morgan stood toward the center. He was shaking with a blind fury and without hesitation charged after Julian at full force. Julian reacted instinctively and dipped down catching the weight of Morgan, raising his body over his head. At the speed Morgan ran and with the defensive position Julian took, Morgan was instantly propelled over the ledge. Instinctively, Julian reached out to grab Morgan’s arm. The weight rammed Julian into the ledge as he held to his brother’s fragile grip, nearly pulling Julian over the side with him.